34. Garrett
CHAPTER 34
Garrett
Harper shifted in her sleep and made a soft noise in her throat. I’d been staring at the ceiling for who knows how long, a million things running through my head. It felt like answers were just out of reach, veiled by the haze of time. If I could put all the pieces together, I could not only catch a killer, I could keep my woman safe.
And nothing mattered more than that.
I’d pored over what we had on Jasmine, looking for any similarities to Harper. Nothing stood out. Jasmine had been shorter, with different skin tone and darker hair. She’d been a massage therapist, not a baker. She’d been younger, too. Only twenty-four when she was killed.
But did that mean anything?
I needed to convince the judge to grant a warrant for that root cellar. It might not lead anywhere, but the need to act—to make some kind of progress—consumed me.
Harper moved again and her brow furrowed slightly. She seemed restless. I shifted closer so I could kiss her forehead—soothe whatever was troubling her as she slept.
I could do this forever.
The thought came out of nowhere. But it was simply the truth. I didn’t want to lose her—couldn’t stand the thought. I wanted her next to me like this for the rest of my life.
No one was going to take her from me. No one.
I slid an arm around her waist and gently nudged her closer. She stirred, but didn’t wake, settling against me. Her body was warm and soft, her closeness easing the tension in my muscles.
She was mine.
My eyes started to drift closed. Maybe I was finally going to get some rest. I took a slow, deep breath, inhaling her scent.
A slight creak caught my attention and my eyes shot open. Had that been the floor? Or was it just the house settling?
So much for sleep. My senses were alert, the hit of adrenaline chasing away my fatigue. Maybe it was Owen, getting up to use the bathroom or get some water. I needed to check. I wouldn’t be able to relax until I was sure.
Reluctantly, I eased myself away from Harper’s warm body, slipped out of bed, and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs. If Owen was up, I didn’t want to traumatize him by walking out naked.
Then again, if someone was in the house, there was nothing like coming face to face with a big, naked cop who came from lumberjack stock.
Harper was still asleep, so I grabbed my firearm, crept out of the bedroom, and quietly shut the door behind me. My eyes were already adjusted to the darkness and there was a small nightlight in the hall, a holdover from when Owen was younger and had frequently found his way into my room at night.
Owen’s door was closed, so I carefully turned the knob and peeked inside. He was in bed, sound asleep.
I shut the door and paused, listening. Nothing.
But I was still going to walk every inch of the house to make sure.
The spare bedroom was empty, as was the hall bathroom— including the shower. My feet didn’t make a sound as I crept down the stairs. I hesitated at the bottom, my ears straining.
Another creak made me freeze and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A waft of cool air hit my skin.
Was someone there?
My training took over. There was no room for fear. I was calm, but ready. Whoever it was, they’d picked the wrong house.
I had a view of the entryway and front room. No sign of entry—forced or otherwise—and my doorbell camera hadn’t alerted. There was another noise, coming from the back of the house, so I moved that way, my senses sharp.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move. A slight change of temperature as I made my way to the kitchen heightened my wariness. Had a window or door been opened and let in the night air? My heart beat harder as I took careful steps, pausing at the corner between the kitchen and the family room.
I turned the corner, weapon at the ready, but the room was empty. I hurried to the French doors that led out back. Locked. I flipped on the light, illuminating the porch, and peered into the darkness. Was that movement just inside the tree line?
My house backed up against a stretch of woods—no one lived behind me. I squinted into the night, straining to see. But if someone had been there, they were already gone.
For a second, I thought about following. But I hadn’t checked the garage. I couldn’t leave Harper and Owen alone in the house if there was even a chance someone was still there.
The door leading into the garage was locked and no one was inside.
I did another sweep of the house, checking every corner. I crisscrossed my way around, changing direction, opening doors, moving as softly as I could. No one was there and nothing seemed to be moved or missing.
Had someone been in the house? Had they slipped out just before I’d gone downstairs?
I went back to the French doors and crouched so I could see the lock at eye level. Those things weren’t impossible to pick, if you knew what you were doing. And if someone was good at it, they could have locked it behind them when they left.
In and out without a trace.
Who the fuck was I dealing with?
I thought about calling it in and getting someone out there to start investigating. But I could already tell, there wasn’t anything to investigate. If someone had been there, they were gone.
There might be some footprints outside, but in the dry weather I doubted it. I’d take a look when the sun was up, but I didn’t hold out much hope I’d find anything conclusive.
The real problem was, if I called it in, I knew what they were going to think. I was being paranoid.
A few little noises in the night didn’t warrant an all-out investigation. I knew that.
But someone had been there. I’d felt it.
They’d been in Harper’s house, too. Hers had been the same thing, no sign of entry, no indication anyone had broken in. But someone had taken those underwear out of her drawer and put them in that box. I didn’t care what my superiors said.
I just couldn’t prove it. Yet.
Whoever was after my girl, I was going to find him before he could hurt her.
He was fucking with the wrong man.